


Trying to save my soul tonight; It's nobody's fault but mine (Night Off)

by Secret_Wendigo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Dominant Dean, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Porn, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 03, Sibling Incest, Submissive Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:52:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Wendigo/pseuds/Secret_Wendigo
Summary: Dean sees that Sam needs a night off, but he'll need some convincing. Sam wasn't sure at first, but he quickly realizes a night off was definitely what both of them needed.Don't be fooled - it's Wincest with a very bossy Dean!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of 3
> 
> This story starts with plot and ends with a lot less clothing!
> 
> This fic is finished, but I've gotten shy because I've read so much good stuff. I'm going to finish this, but I need time. Probably quite a bit more. It doesn't help that my wincest ship totally sailed the second I saw Castiel.

Another dusty midwestern town, another dollar.

Oh wait, they don’t get paid.

 _What a fuckin’ shame,_ Dean thought as he handed some pimply-faced high school kid twenty-five bucks for a bag of _Great Night Off_. This seventeen-year-old kid sells dope and probably has more cash in his pocket on any given day than he does, well, except for the occasional night when Dean works some redneck small town drunk out of his crappy paycheck.

But Dean’s mission tonight isn’t a hunt. It’s Sam. Sam’s the mission and Dean never fails when confronted with a challenge. He needs to get his ultra uptight brother to take a night off with him and enjoy life; stop and smell the roses so to speak, or the weed, whatever. His brother has been so repressed lately, he was probably about two seconds from cracking. All work and no play makes Sam a homicidal maniac. Yup, definitely time for an intervention.

Dean heads to the grocery store on the way back to the motel to get a six-pack of beer (no reason to wait until he gets to the bar to start) and some aluminum foil. Necessity, after all, is the mother of invention.

~~

Dean pulled up to the motel and mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. Getting Sam to lighten up this year was like talking a fifteen-year-old girl out of her virginity; not that Dean would know what _that_ was like…lately.

As expected, Dean found Sam hunched over his laptop, in the dark, his face illuminated by the screen. He didn’t even look up when Dean walked in and turned on the lamp.

Dean screwed the cap off two bottles of imported beer and placed one on the table in front of Sam. “Put the internet porn away and let’s go meet some real chicks.”

”It's not internet porn, Dean, it’s research. You know, the stuff you never do anymore.”

Dean took a long pull off of his bottle and set it down. This was serious business; he so didn’t need a repressed _and_ homicidal brother. He ignored his brother’s protests and went around to massage his shoulders. Digging his thumbs into Sam’s stiff back, he bent over and whispered into Sam’s ear. “C’mon, Sammy, we’re going out for a few beers, listen to some music, shoot some pool, hit on some girls....”

Sam stopped typing and softened a bit under Dean’s practiced touch.

“You mean _you’re_ going to hustle pool and feel up the waitresses while I watch.”

Dean smirked and lowered his voice. “Fine with me if you want to watch.” He really was a cocky bastard.

Sam shrugged Dean’s hands off his shoulders and laughed. “Get your hands off me, you freak.”

Dean was pleased when Sam closed his laptop and picked up his beer. “Fine, I’ll go, but I swear to God, Dean, you so much as **think** about trying to hustle pool, I’m outta there. I am not getting into another bar fight because you can’t take a night off.”

“Deal. So, what are you going to wear?” No way Sam was getting any in _that_ outfit.

“Um…what I have on.”

“Yeah, getting laid while wearing that outfit will be the least of your worries. You look like some college yuppie.”

Sam glared at him. "I'm not trying to get laid."

“So…what? Okay…fine....” Dean dug through his pile of clean clothes and pulled out a thin, black, short sleeve tee-shirt and held it up. “Wear this.”

“Dean, your shirts are a size too small for me.”

“Exactly, master-of-the-obvious. Now put it on.”

Sam pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest and stretched the black tee-shirt over his head and down his waist. As expected, it clung tightly.

Dean took in Sam’s look. His hair was tousled from changing and he had that just-been-fucked look that he always wore so well. The tee-shirt was stretched so tight across him that Dean could see the outline of his cut abs. The sleeves were too short, showing off his arms, built from fighting and hunting. The shirt left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Well?” Sam began to feel a bit uncomfortable under his brother’s scrutiny and reached for his sweatshirt.

“So help me God, if you put that baggy sweatshirt on, I’m going to kick your ass." Dean took a breath. "You look good enough to fuck.”

_Oh God, did I just say that?_

“Thanks.” Sam rolled his eyes and added sarcastically, “If it wasn’t for my older brother dressing me, I’d never get laid.” He punched Dean in the arm and headed for the bathroom. “I need to brush my teeth. I’ll be ready in a few.”

Dean rubbed the sore spot on his arm and watched his brother walk away from him. He sat down on the edge of his bed and downed the rest of his beer. When the bathroom door closed, he palmed the crotch of his jeans. His dick was hard and his brother was the cause.

_What. The. Fuck?_

~~

Dean had the faint notion that visions of hellfire, or maybe the lack of pussy in the last few weeks, had started it all. He vowed to never let it get this bad again, and to cure it all, he’d bang some chick in the bar bathroom. Tonight. When your younger brother’s hot body was getting you hard, it was time for a trip to the Y.

They pulled into the parking lot of the bar and Dean noticed that, for a small town, this place was packed full.

Dean parked at the very back of the lot (no way his baby was getting a door ding from one of these drunk bitches) and Sam moved to get out. “Whoa, dude. We’ve got something else to take care of before we go in.” Dean smiled and produced a rolled up Ziploc bag which he shook in front of Sam’s face revealing green buds.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? You want to get high?”

“C’mon, it’s not like we’ve got to worry about our job’s “drug free” policy.”

“Man, Dean, we are so fucked up it’s not even funny.”

“Not yet, but give me a minute.”

Dean produced the roll of aluminum foil he purchased earlier from under his seat and tore a piece off. He began to fashion his make-shift bowl by crafting a pipe using the foil and the Kubotan off of his keychain.

“Holy shit. You can make a bowl out of common household items, but you couldn’t pass twelfth grade English without screwing the teacher? Priceless.”

Dean could have taken offense to that comment, but he knew Sammy meant it light heartedly. He bent the end of his aluminum foil pipe and packed the weed tightly in.

“Ladies first,” Dean said as he handed his brother the lighter and pipe. Dean knew this would ensure Sam took it easy and he could use Sam’s foggy state of mind to hustle just a _little_ pool.

Sam held the lighter up and lit the pipe. He inhaled sharply, holding in the smoke. Dean started laughing, taking in the vision of his straight laced, college student brother firing it up. Sam grinned and followed with a snort, coughing the smoke out of his burning lungs.

~~

Twenty minutes later Dean had a pleasant high and, judging from his brother’s constant grin and glazed eyes, so did Sam. They got out of the car and headed across the lot towards the front door. Half way there, Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist and turned him around.

“I really love you, man.” Sam pulled Dean against him tightly in a hug, crouching over to shove his face into Dean’s neck.

Dean smiled at his brothers marijuana induced affection and hugged him back. “I know you do.”

“Smug bastard.” Sam said it with a straight face, but the smile he tried to hide didn’t stay buried for long. He clapped Dean on his back and turned to continue towards the bar.

Dean paused briefly before following him. Watching his brother’s ass he felt his cock twitch and the image of his high, vulnerable brother laid out naked in front of him on a bed flashed through his mind.

_Son of a bitch. Drugs are bad…m’kay._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 3 
> 
> Dean finally got Sam to loosen up and into a bar for a night off. Everything was fine until he saw who Sam decided to loosen up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is written, I just...need to get the courage to write it better and get it out there. This is a rainy day project and I'm not a writer. It'll be here...someday. I've read so much good writing, it's hard not to feel inadequate!

After they entered the bar, they both ordered a beer and essentially went their separate ways. Dean headed towards the pool tables, and Sam went to the back of the bar. Usually the bars they frequented were small enough that they could shout back and forth from one side to the other if they wanted to. But this bar was crowded, and a bit bigger, and Sam disappeared into the crowd of people.

Dean made modest bets at the pool tables, winning a few, then losing a game or so, just so the good ol’ boys didn’t suspect. He made a point of coming onto his waitress incessantly and his beer supply never ran out. She was a cute little thing; short and petite. He was sure by the time they were at last call, he’d have her pinned against the bathroom wall with her little black skirt hiked up to her waist and her legs spread wide while he fingered her around her panties. He'd lick her pussy and then fuck her bent over the sink so he could watch his dick slide in and out and see her face in the mirror when she came. She’d made it clear she was game when she ground herself against his ass while he tried to sink a winning shot. While his opponent smiled at the miss, Dean turned towards her and seductively whispered in her ear to ask how she was going to make up for the fifty bucks he just lost; she just smiled, gave him a wink and shook her ass provocatively as she walked away.

She didn't know it yet, but he was going to keep those panties too.

Needing a break from his thoughts, Dean threw his cue onto the green felt and looked around for Sam. He hadn’t seen him for a couple of hours, and he wondered what his brother was up to. He grabbed his beer and began wading through the crowds of people, some shoved together in groups talking loudly over the music, some dancing. He stopped when he finally caught sight of Sam.

Sam was at the back of the bar, which wasn't well lit, and he leaned against the wall with his beer tilted back, chugging the last of it. He was pressed against someone behind him, which was evident by the hand that Sam cupped in his own against his black tee-shirt. Sam guided the hand down across his exposed hip bones, then pushed it to barely dip down the front of Sam’s pants beneath his black leather belt. He saw Sam's hips slightly buck up towards the hand and he could see his brother was hard.

_Well, that sly dog. Doesn’t waste any time...._

Dean grinned at the thought that his brother might actually be liberated from _homicidal maniac_ status and be a normal guy looking to get laid. Sam had a smile plastered on his lips when he put the empty drink on the table and turned to kiss the mystery guest behind him. Mid-swallow, Dean almost dropped his bottle when he sucked beer into his lungs. It was a _guy_.

It was like a car wreck and Dean couldn’t look away. I mean, he always joked about Sam being the girl in this relationship, but he had no idea his femininity extended to picking up men in a bar and _kissing_ them. And...did that fucker have his hands on his brother’s ass?

Dean cleared his throat and looked around to see if anyone else was watching. Everyone, it seemed, was in their own drunken bubble, including Sam.

The mystery guy was tall, but Sam still had to lean down to reach his lips. Sam's hand dropped to the man's hip, just under his shirt, and he ran his thumb down into the waist of his jeans. Sam ground his hips into him, then slightly backed away, looking down. Dean took a few steps to the side and saw the man unbuckling Sam's belt. He felt a pull in his gut, but he wasn't sure if it was anticipation or disappointment.

His concentration broke when he heard the sound of glass shattering and a round of applause and congratulatory shouts.

Dean had quite enough of this scene. No way was he letting his brother get it on in public with some guy he just met in a bar. He stormed over and pulled on Sam’s shoulder. He could see that they were kissing deeply, the guy was sucking on Sam’s bottom lip, and Sam was shocked when it abruptly ended.

“Look man, I'm not looking for a....” Recognition dawned on Sam as he turned. “Oh, Dean...uh...hey." Sam wouldn't look him in the eye.

The mystery man sensed the conflict ahead and backed away from Dean, holding his hands up in the air in surrender. “I didn’t know he was with somebody. I **swear**. He said he was here by himself.”

"I am," Sam deadpanned, "this is my brother." He gave the guy an apologetic look.

Dean ignored the mystery man and turned to Sam. “What the **FUCK** are you doing?”

“ ‘m makin’ out. You know, trying to get laid like you keep tellin’ me to do.”

“I meant with a chick, you moron."

Dean gave the guy a once over. He was muscular, cleanly shaven with short hair, and probably about 30. He wore a flannel with rolled up sleeves and dark blue jeans which had seen their fair share of work. He was handsome, almost pretty. Dean could see his allure, but not with his Sammy.

His eyes snapped back to Sam. "Since when do you make out with guys, anyway?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked back and forth between the two in disbelief.

Sam opened his mouth to respond and Dean held his hand up to cut him off. “You know what, I don't even care, say goodbye to your boyfriend, we're outta here.”

"Dean, seriously?"

Dean didn't wait for him to say goodbye and grabbed Sam by the elbow, led him to the bar to pay both their tabs, then shoved Sam out the front door to the Impala.

~~

Dean kept silent for most of the short drive back to the motel. What he saw his brother doing....He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Sam had packed more weed into the aluminum bowl and clumsily lit it. He held it out to Dean, who refused.

Dean had quite enough fun for one night already, thank you very much.

His mind kept going back to how Sam kissed that guy...how he writhed against him. I mean, it’s not like Dean hadn’t ever made out with a guy, but…what exactly was his excuse for being mad? It’s not because the guy was a stranger. Hell, Dean had planned on bending that little waitress over the sink before he left for the night. So why was he mad?

Dean pulled up in front of the motel and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Make sure you throw that bowl in the trashcan outside would ya?” He slammed the car door and went into the hotel room, leaving Sam outside. He sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. He _really_ needed to get a handle on things before Sam came inside, because he didn’t like where this was heading.

And that was putting it mildly.

Sam was...his. In a fucked up way, he didn't mind his brother fucking a girl; that happened. But a guy, especially when he looked so much like Dean; that bothered him. Growing up how they did, there was always an intimacy between them. When one of them needed something, the other was always there. When Sam got to the age where he had questions about... _things_...Dean was the only person he could come to for answers. It was a powerful feeling to be that important in someone's life, to have someone idolize you. He never overstepped his bounds with Sam. They're older now, but Dean still felt those intimate, almost possessive, bonds he'd forged when they were young, but the boundary line that used to be between them had gotten a whole hell of a lot fucking blurrier. If you added the new information that Sam was two seconds from getting a drunk blow-job from some random guy (who looked a lot like Dean) in the dark corner of a bar, that strained the situation all the more. 

He was horny as fuck and tonight was supposed to solve that. Had he just stuck with pool and the girl who was practically begging to slide on his dick, he could have avoided this.

Dean stood and wiped his hands over his face to clear his emotions as Sam came into the room, heavy footed, nearly tripping over the duffle next to the door.

“Are you mad at me dude, ‘cause I can’t figure out why. I saw you with that waitress. You were gonna fuck her weren’t you? So, ‘m not gettin’ your attitude.” He leaned against the closed motel door and looked up through his long bangs, demanding an answer from Dean.

“When I said I wanted you to get laid, I wasn’t talking about some guy you picked up in a bar.”

Sam began ripping the tee-shirt over his head. “You tell me to take a night off, get me high, drunk, and dress me up so that, what did you say, I _‘look good enough to fuck’_. Then you send me on my way. I think you made it pretty clear what you wanted me to do, Dean.” He threw the shirt at Dean, who caught it and dropped it to the floor.

Sam leaned against the door again and his jeans slung even lower than they had earlier, likely from not cinching his belt up properly after mystery guy helped himself. Dean felt his dick getting hard again, thinking of how Sam guided his hand under his belt and sucked on his lips.

“Look....” Dean walked to stand in front of Sam and looked up into his face. “Look, I’m sorry, I'm a dick. I just…when he was touching you....”

“When he was touching me what?” Sam's voice was angry and he searched Dean’s face for just what he was going to say.

Dean really didn’t have the words for what he was trying to convey, he never was a talker. Dean admired Sam's bare chest and ran his fingertips across the defined lines. He felt Sam draw a deep breath, but he didn't protest. He knew the depth of what he was feeling was unnatural; probably a mixture of territorial jealousy and drugs.

He stepped closer, until he was between Sam's legs. Dean wasn’t sure what to expect. He just needed to show Sam he wasn’t angry because he was making out with a guy, he was angry because the guy wasn’t him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another fic I discovered floundering on the 'net which I had written almost ten years ago. Nuts! Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and corrections welcome!


End file.
